Montage
by Quentin B. Caulfield
Summary: Jealousy. Without the exaggerated, wornout scenarios. Without the juvenile and irksome attempts at denial. 'Why beat around the bush. I am jealous.' [NejiTen Neji's POV]


**Please Read Before Reading**: _Montage_ (n.) the technique of combining in a single composition pictorial elements from various sources, as parts of different photographs or fragments of printing, _either to give the illusion that the elements belonged together originally or to allow each element to retain its separate identity as a means of adding interest or meaning_ to the composition.

NOTE: THIS IS NOT PLAGIARISM.

Yes, this is originally part of the Indulgence Saga, but I felt that it was an entity in and of itself. So, this is still posted under the Indulgence Saga, but I have also made it another story by itself - hopefully more people will read it. I hope that I didn't diminish the value any of my five lovely reviews - I appreciated that you took the time to do so. It warms my heart.

For all of those who have already read this piece, this is a slightly tweaked version - and I think the effect of the ending is different too. More emotion conveyed.

This is a gift piece for unexpection. I hope I you read this.

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.

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_Montage _

What is it to be jealous?

In my short lifetime, I have contemplated many an existentialist concept – Freedom. Imprisonment. Betrayal. These were the old friends, the familiar emotions that used to keep me company, that keep me occupied – feelings that seemed to give my adolescent years direction when all of my peers were so content in their directionless state. These were the emotions that kept me focused, the concepts that shaped my younger years.

But _jealousy_….

**_Jealousy_**.

That did not factor into Life's equation. That did not fit with the narrow worldview that I had adopted. Sure, there was the twinge of _Envy_ towards those ignorant _lucky _children who could run around laughing and screaming, who did not have to uphold the Clan honor with their every breath –

– who have their fathers.

But that was _Envy_, that was frustration and anger, emotions that only served to fuel and support my definition on life, my melancholic belief in the singular, predetermined destiny of each being. I did not envy their weakness; I never wished to be them. I was not _jealous_ of their _lucky_ lives.

So I never wondered nor cared what jealously was, what it meant to feel 'the green monster' because it was never essential.

_Essential._

Is jealousy essential? Do I need it to be human, to retain my humanity?

If so, it would be a foolish sentiment, _indeed_.

Or is it simply a by-product of my emotions, of my wholly sinful and selfish _primal_ lust for you? Do I feel this imbalance because on my **_basest_** level, under all the rules and protocols of civilization, beneath all of the physical and mental training, there is a side of me that is simply _male_, and there is an instinct that urges me to call you **_Mine_**?

It that was it is to be Jealous? Or is that simply what it is to be Possessive?

To Possess…

Being possessive only explains why I felt the uncontrollable urge to **cut off** Kiba's hand when he caressed your cheek.

Being possessive only explains why I _feel_ the unmistakable frown deepen and darken my brow as we walk through town, when the eyes of a few _foolish_ young men stay too long on your vestige and stay too long on your curves.

Being possessive **_can only_** explain why I my palms itch to _shake_ that foolish women – _Ino_ – whenever she suggests, "It's time you found yourself a man."

Foolish, **_meddlesome_ **woman, she is **Mine**.

But _jealousy_….

_**Jealousy. **_

_What is it to be jealous?_

Is it the angry feeling, the utter **rage** that unwittingly blooms in my chest whenever I see _your_ eyes stare appreciatively upon another man, whenever I see _your_ eyes greedily drink up the image of another? Or is it the brief feeling of helpless that comes right after the haze of anger, the fleeting but terrifying thought that maybe _just maybe_ **he** would be the one to finally temper and possess your fiery spirit?

That he would be the one you returned home to.

Is that Jealousy?

This uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach that I cannot shake; this irksome, irrational, unfounded _sick _feeling that stays with me regardless of how calm or centered I am, regardless of how much I meditate; this ridiculous dread that somehow, I could lose you to another.

…_Another that has no right to you in the first place._

Is this Jealousy or _Fear_?

_Or are they all the one and the same – all interconnected?_

The Envy. The _Lust_. The **Rage**. The **_Fear_**.

Do they all combine to create the overwhelming, the _drowning_ feeling that consumes me whenever I think of you in the arms of another man? Do they all combine to steal my breath, if only for a second, whenever I consider that maybe _just maybe_ you will find solace in another?

Do they all combine to lead me to the unsurprising realization that you are **Mine**, and **_fuck_** the others because you are **Mine**?

And no one **touches** what is Mine.

_Jealousy._

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_End. _

_ Please Review. And thank you for reading my work.  
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